


The Key

by aussiebee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Fluff, Just Add Kittens, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 15:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21182045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussiebee/pseuds/aussiebee
Summary: Eligible bachelor Derek Hale has announced that whomever can take the key from around his dog's neck will be the person he marries. Stiles Stilinski think this is utterly ridiculous.





	The Key

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [The Key by aussiebee](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23770306) by [TheGirlintheBar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlintheBar/pseuds/TheGirlintheBar)

“I swear to god if I hear one more person talk about that goddamn dog, I’ll throw myself off the lookout,” Stiles grumbled into the phone as he forged his way through the trees of the Preserve.

_ “You have to admit it’s interesting,” _ Lydia said, and Stiles could hear Allison in the back shouting that it was romantic, too.

“Romantic? Derek Hale is responsible for three maulings and a convertible being  _ peed in,” _ Stiles countered, grunting as he stumbled over who-knew-what, “and that’s just this week.”

_ “I’d hardly call him responsible for it, no one’s making these idiots go looking for the dog.” _

She had a point, but Stiles had up a good head of steam at this point and was not to be deterred. “What’s the deal, anyway? I know he’s apparently California’s most eligible bachelor and all that jazz, but aren’t they kind of a dime a dozen? I mean, just look at how many we’ve had come through here during election campaigns and movie location scouting expeditions.”

Lydia sighed.  _ “We’ve been over this, Stiles. The Hales are one of the oldest families in the U.S and are tied to the land; whomever marries into the family will become one of the wealthiest people in the country by virtue of real estate alone. Not to mention the various other business, export/import and industry pies they have their fingers in.” _

“I still maintain it’s stupid,” he said staidly, perking up a little as he heard water trickle over rocks.

_ “He’s insanely hot, too,” _ Allison added, making Lydia snort.

“If you’re into broody manpain.”

_ “As if you’re not, Stilinski. Anyway,” _ Lydia said dismissively,  _ “we have an appointment to get our hair done. Once you’ve finished your own brooding and whatnot, feel free to come join.” _

“Thanks so much for the offer, but that’s a hard pass from me.”

_ “Your loss,” _ the girls chimed in unison, and then the call disconnected.

Breaking through the treeline as he pocketed his phone, Stiles sighed with relief as the breeze off the small, deep creek cooled the sweat on his face. “Thank god,” he muttered to himself, wasting no time in dropping his backpack and stripping down to his boxer briefs before wading into the cool, clear water of the creek. He hissed as the water rose to hip depth and took several deep breaths before diving beneath the surface, the air in his lungs seizing for a moment before he resurfaced and exhaled, flipping over onto his back and floating in blissful isolation.

He spent a while just floating, angling up to the tiny waterfall and laughing when the water fell onto his forehead and up his nose, diving to the bottom to hold onto the big mossy rocks and dwell momentarily within the muted silence of the stream and lazily dragging his fingers back and forth through the Java moss lining the creek edges. It was the longest he’d had to himself to relax and do not much of anything in months, so of course that was why he felt the oppressive weight of eyes on him. Slowly letting his feet sink to the bottom, he looked around until he found his watcher, a pair of dark eyes in a dark face staring at him from on top of the diving rock.

“Ugh,  _ you,” _ he muttered, rolling his own eyes at the massive dog that sat tall and regal and stared down at him. “Don’t you have someone you should be biting right now?” He swam backwards a little until his feet were barely skimming the sandy bottom when the dog’s ears flicked briefly in his direction. “May I remind you before you start thinking that biting  _ me _ would be a good idea that I’m not one of the bone-headed morons who followed you out here--  _ you _ followed  _ me, _ so you can keep your preternaturally large teeth to yourself, thanks.”

In response the dog yawned widely, unnecessarily showing off every single tooth it had, Stiles was certain.

“Rude,” he chided, watching as the dog stood and stretched, leaping off the rock and down to the small beach-type area where Stiles had entered the water. Sunlight glinted off the key hanging from a collar of twine around its neck and Stiles rolled his eyes again, only to yelp out a protest when the big animal began to snuffle at his backpack. “Hey!” he exclaimed, splashing water at dog who bared its teeth and skittered away. “Not yours, bucko, so keep your thieving paws off!”

The dog huffed and sat in the dappled shadow of one of the willows overhanging the water, deliberately turning its head away to smooth down its coat where it had gotten wet. Stiles made his way cautiously up the bank, keeping one eye on the dog who seemed content to ignore him as he pulled a towel from his bag and dried his hair before wrapping it around his waist to sit. He pulled a ziploc bag out containing a squashed sandwich and an apple, and fished two muesli bars out of a side pocket, opening one and devouring it in two bites. He heard the dog huff again and saw from the corner of his eye that it had shifted a little closer, but other than that still seemed content to ignore him. Stiles stamped down a smirk and thought that if it weren’t for the key around his neck, he could be forgiven for thinking that this wasn’t even Hale’s dog. Where was the savagery and mauling?

He continued to eat, slowly and methodically, pretending not to notice the way the dog crept incrementally closer. Eventually, when there was only half of his tuna salad sandwich left, Stiles spoke again, keeping his voice soft.

“Must be hungry work, huh, outrunning all the desperados in town?”

The dog’s only response was a quick flick of one of its ears, otherwise it very pointedly continued looking in the opposite direction.

“Hope Hale’s keeping you well-fed, given that he’s got you doing his dirty work for him,” Stiles continued, then began to pat his own belly. “I’m pretty full myself, don’t want the rest of this sandwich. I mean, I don’t know if you’re even into tuna salad, but if you are, help yourself.” He laid the remains of his lunch on a smooth river rock and carefully got to his feet, shedding the towel to head back into the water for a while. He swam beneath the surface to the other side of the small creek and surfaced to breathe, but when he turned to look back both the sandwich and the dog were gone.

  
  


Curiosity piqued, Stiles returned the next afternoon, only mildly surprised when the dog showed up after he’d been in the water for a while, watching him from the same rock again.

“Hey you, nice work chewing up Harris’ mailbox,” he called, pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the way the dog seemed to puff up a little at his words. “I mean, I assume it was you, after he chased you around town for an hour. Might want to avoid the southern trails for a while though; he was talking about some trap he had set up out there to try and catch you.”

The dog ignored him, so Stiles just sighed and went back to diving for the pretty-coloured stones on the bottom, tossing a few up onto the sand as he found them. He realised the dog had come down to the beach when he just barely managed to avoid throwing a rock that would have hit it for sure, fumbling and cursing as it sank back to the bottom.

“What is your damage?” he demanded as the dog began to groom its coat once more. “Oh you bastard, feeding you yesterday was a fatal error, wasn’t it?” He continued to grumble as he left the water and approached the dog, ignoring it as it flinched back and away into the shadows again. “Don’t be like that,” he said easily, dropping down to rummage through his bag again, “I brought one specially for you today. Hope you like turkey and swiss, because that’s what you’re getting.” He unwrapped it and tossed it to the side, far away enough that the dog could get it without fear of Stiles touching him, but was unsurprised when the dog stayed back.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged as he began to eat his own lunch, eventually starting to talk as he did, explaining that the stones he was keeping were for his neighbour across the street to add to the collection in his cactus garden. “The dude loves cacti, wins all sorts of awards. He’s heading down to San Luis Obispo soon for a convention- who even knew cactus conventions were a thing?”

He kept talking as he ate, and when he was done he slumped down and used his backpack as a pillow, lacing his fingers behind his head and closing his eyes as the trees above played games of light and shadow across his face, pretending he didn’t hear the near-silent movement of the dog as it crossed the small beach and investigated the sandwich.

“My mom used to bring me here when I was little,” he said wistfully, goosebumps rising on his skin as the breeze caressed his still-damp skin. “She taught me to swim here, and would make little picnic lunches for us to share.” He huffed a laugh under his breath. “This was the first place I ever tried chocolate milk, and I went so crazy with the sugar rush that Dad had to come meet us here and take over for Mom to try and wear me out before we went home.”

Melancholy washed over him and he sighed. “I miss her so much.”

And if there was more than just water from the creek clinging to his eyelashes, who was there to tell?

  
  


The next week saw much the same pattern: Stiles would go to the creek, Hale’s dog would show up most of the time, they’d share some food and Stiles would talk. The dog crept a little closer every day- never close enough to touch- but they shared space comfortably enough.

That changed on the following Sunday morning when Stiles was walking down the street towards the insanely hipsterish place that did the best coffee in Beacon Hills, maybe the entire world, to meet his father for breakfast. A low growl issued forth from somewhere ahead of him and he paused a moment before continuing on, more hesitant now, but insatiably curious.

“Stupid mutt, nowhere to go now, is there?” came a low, sinister voice sounding creepily amused. “Just put your teeth away before I kick them out.”

Well, there was no way for Stiles to ignore that, was there? Rolling his eyes and sighing, he stepped around the corner and into the mouth of the darkened alley to take in the scene in a heartbeat.

The dog was cornered at the far end of the alley by Councilman Argent and three of his goons, so Stiles just rolled his eyes again and pulled out his phone to begin recording a video.

“I don’t know if the good people of Beacon Hills would be too happy to see their elected representative “kick the teeth” out of a defenseless and outnumbered dog,  _ especially _ in an election year.”

The henchmen spun around, followed a beat later by Gerard, whose entire expression melted from one of thwarted fury into that of tightly leashed calm when he saw the phone pointed in his direction.

“Ah, young Mister Stilinkski,” he gritted out through a clench-toothed smile that honestly just make him look even more psychopathic than usual. “You’d be best running along and not meddling in affairs that have nothing to do with you.”

Blithely ignoring him, Stiles pointedly zoomed in on the phone and filled the screen with Gerard’s face. “I feel like you trying to marry into the Hales to get your hands on their business interests would  _ not _ be in the interests of the electorate, especially given the fact that you’re already making yourself exceedingly unpopular by trying to get funding to local services slashed while petitioning to have your private hunting business subsidised. Although, might as well have a go at a poor animal, give the good people of this town a taste of what they’d be buying into if they were to give you the money you’re trying to screw them out of.”

There was a brief flash of apoplectic rage that Stiles was sure was going to haunt his nightmares before Gerard waved a sharp hand at his cronies and they shoved roughly past Stiles to leave the alleyway.

“Tread carefully, boy,” Gerard muttered into Stiles’ ear as he passed, but only once Stiles had lowered the phone. “Your father’s up for reelection for the sheriff position this year too, isn’t he?”

“Five elections unopposed, and counting,” Stiles chirped with mock cheer, valiantly denying the shudder that wanted to ripple down his spine as the sickly-sweet wash of Gerard’s breath brushed across his cheek.

“Let’s hope this time around remains as… unopposed.”

And with that he was gone, leaving Stiles standing in the gloom with his heart thumping and his stomach twisting sickly, only then finishing the recording and hoping he’d managed to get all of that last exchange. In his experience, there was no such thing as too much information.

His attention was caught by a low whine from where the dog was still standing, watching him with eerie intent, and Stiles crouched down where he was, slipping the phone into his back pocket. “You okay, boy? That asshole didn’t do anything to you, did he? Come here,” he said cajolingly, “come let me make sure you’re okay.”

With another nearly inaudible sound the dog did, taking a few cautious steps closer, enough that the meagre light from the mouth of the alley glinted off the key attached to the dog’s collar. Stiles ignored it and slowly held out one of his hands, keeping it low to the ground. “C’mere, handsome boy, I’m not going to take the stupid key, if that’s what’s bothering you. Just wanna make sure that Argent didn’t get his grubby mitts on you. Although if he had, I imagine he probably would have lost at least one of said mitts, but I want to make sure. Can’t have my lunch buddy hurt, can I? Who’s gonna eat those extra sandwiches and ignore me if you’re not around to do it?”

The dog crept even closer, hesitance obvious in every line of its body as it stretched out and sniffed at Stiles’ fingers. Stiles smiled a little and held still.

“You look okay, great even. And boy are you even bigger up close. What’ve you got, wolf or something in the mix there? Not sure that’s legal. What’s Hale thinking, huh, letting you run about like this, getting hunted down like it’s some kind of game?” The dog’s ears seemed to perk a little at that, but Stiles just kept talking, ignoring the urge to close his fist as the dog’s whiskers tickled his palm. “You’re too smart for that, aren’t you? Probably why he did it- no chance anyone’s gonna get the jump on you. Actually, how  _ did _ Argent corner you here?”

With a sudden lunge the dog surged forward and Stiles jerked back with a startled shout, falling onto his ass and bracing for a rush of pain that didn’t come. When he finally peeled his eyes open, the dog had gotten a hold of the sleeve of his hoodie and was gently tugging him back towards the back of the alley.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles grumbled, awkwardly getting to his feet as the dog continued to tug determinedly. He allowed himself to be led down to where a dumpster was jutting out from the wall, and that was where the dog let him go, only to circle around behind him and headbutt the back of his legs to get him to move closer.

“Ew, no,” Stiles protested, trying to stand firm but  _ damn _ did the dog have some weight behind him. “It stinks, dude, and if you’re trying to repay me for the rescue- you’re welcome, by the way- trying to shove me into a dumpster is  _ not…” _

He broke off as a small movement caught his eye, and he crouched down once more to rescue a tiny grey kitten from a cardboard box, the poor little thing too weak to make much noise, or do anything apart from nuzzle into the warmth of Stiles’ hand.

“I cannot wait to start telling everyone what a bit softie you are,” Stiles began, but when he turned to laugh at the dog, it was gone. Instead, he groaned and stood, tucking the kitten into the pouch of his hoodie, fishing his phone out of his pocket to call his dad and let him know that there was a change of plan.

  
  


Three days after that, Stiles was standing on the wide wraparound porch of the Hale house and pounding on the door. He heard music and raucous laughter inside, and what sounded like the thundering of a herd of large animals approaching the door at speed. Alarmed, he swung to one side of it in anticipation of it bursting outwards and him getting trampled, but there were just a series of thumps which made the porch vibrate beneath his feet before the door was thrown open and a group of people aged two to nearly-thirty gave him a disconcertingly thorough head-to-toe.

“Stilinski, Stiles,” said the tall young woman in the middle of the cluster, a cocky smirk playing around her mouth. “Son of the sheriff. Currently home on spring break from his second year of college at Caltech. Biomechanical engineering major. Drinks coffee with no sugar but loves caramel mudcake.”

Ruthlessly suppressing the grin that threatened to break through, Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Hale, Laura Marie. Daughter of Talia and Joseph Hale. Harvard Law graduate, currently aiming to be the youngest ever named partner at LA’s prestigious Hale, Hale, Argent and Hale. Drinks directly from the lifeforce of her enemies and prefers the subservience of men over most desserts.”

Laura cackled and reached out to grab him and pull him into a rib-creaking hug as she dragged him inside, ignoring the younger Hales who had raced her to the door as they tried to get in hugs of their own. “You never write, you never call…” she teased.

“We text almost every day,” Stiles countered. “I didn’t even know you were in town- what are you doing here?”

“Ugh,” she groaned as she led him into the kitchen, turning around to roar at the kids who shrieked delightedly and scattered, except for Charlie who just wrapped his arms around Stiles’ thighs and grinned adoringly at him before sticking his tongue out at Laura and following his cousins into the backyard. “Enforced leave.  _ You’re here too much, Laura, you’re going to burn out, Laura. _ If it hasn’t happened already, it’s not likely to happen now.” She hopped up onto the counter and narrowed her eyes at him. “If you didn’t know I was home, what are you doing here?”

Stiles wandered over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water and a can of Red Bull, which he handed to Laura as he returned and sat beside her. “Your brother owes me four hundred bucks.”

“Which one? Steve or Mike?”

“Derek, this time,” Stiles frowned.

Laura threw him A Look. “How so?”

Stiles related the entire story of finding the kitten in the alley, and finished up with, “...so she also needed shots, microchipping, fluid replacement therapy, antibiotics and flea treatment. And it was all your idiot brother’s fault, because he’s such a responsible pet owner that he lets his dog roam all over the damn place and put it at risk. Which, can we just talk about that for a moment? Because that’s pretty fucked up; who knows what Gerard could’ve done if he’d gotten his hands on Fluffy.”

Laura snorted Red Bull out of her nose. “Fluffy? You call Derek’s dog  _ Fluffy?” _

“And not ironically, like in Harry Potter,” Stiles promised, and Laura cackled wildly.

“Please let me be there when you tell Derek that,” Laura begged. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Tell me what?”

Stiles spun around and slid off the counter as Derek Hale himself entered the kitchen. “You!” he exclaimed, getting in Derek’s face.

Of all the Hale family, Derek was the one Stiles knew least; he was a few years older than Stiles, and while Laura had come back to do some shadowing at the Sheriff’s Department as part of her desire to know more about the entire criminal justice system, Derek had left for college and parts unknown as soon as he was able, on the heels of some scandal that Stiles barely remembered. And once Laura had taken a shine to Stiles, forever hanging around and pestering his dad’s deputies, she had taken him home like a stray and the Hale family had promptly adopted him into their ranks.

Which probably explained the uncertainty on Derek’s face when Stiles got up into it. “You and your irresponsible pet ownership ways. Do you have any idea who I rescued your damn dog from on the weekend? Gerard Argent. And that was just one day... there are people laying traps in the Preserve to catch him, did you know that? What happens when someone decides that shooting the dog is a faster and easier way of getting your key? You didn’t stipulate in your idiotic announcement that the dog had to be left unscathed.

“And another thing!” he added, well and truly on a roll now, “Who the hell decides ‘oh well, time to get married, better make everyone in town chase my dog around for the key to my house’?” He pulled up short. “Ew. Ew ew EW, imagine if  _ Gerard had gotten the key, _ you would have to marry that disgusting pile of liver spots and hate. Would it be Derek Argent? Because I don’t see Gerard relinquishing the Argent name in a hurry, do you?”

Laura was in absolute fits at this point, but Derek just raised his impressive eyebrows. “He wouldn’t have caught the dog.”

“You don’t know that,” Stiles argued immediately. “You can’t possibly know that, because  _ you weren’t there. _ You weren’t there with your dog on a lead like you should be, instead of letting Fluffy roam around free to eat whichever unsuspecting Girl Scouts he comes across.”

“He would never-” Derek began, outrage bringing colour to his cheeks before he stopped, seemingly choking on his own words. “Fluffy?!”

“Yeah, Fluffy,” Stiles snapped. “Because that dog is fluffy, and a huge puppy besides. He almost got himself caught because he was trying to rescue a kitten, a kitten which I have since had to care and pay for. Speaking of which,” he said, pulling a crumpled invoice from his pocket and slapping it against Derek’s chest, “you owe me five hundred bucks.”

“You told me four hundred,” Laura reminded him through her sniggering.

“I added an extra hundred for the pain and suffering of this entire interaction,” Stiles returned, eyes still narrowed and fixed on Derek. “And I’m keeping the kitten, so there.” He spun on his heel, stomped over to Laura and dutifully dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Tell your mom and dad I said hi,” he told her, then let himself out the back door, calling the kids to him and giving them all hugs and high fives and fist bumps as he left.

“What just happened?” Derek asked bemusedly, eyes wide as they stared at his sister.

“Stiles Stilinski just happened,” Laura informed him gleefully. “But let me ask you something, brother-mine. What’s this I hear about you spending afternoons with Stiles, hmm? Napping together in the sun down by the creek, sharing meals…”

“Oh no,” Derek said, discovering the danger too late, Laura leaping into his back as he tried to flee.

The sound of laughter followed the Jeep all the way down the drive.

  
  


Stiles was napping in the shade by the stream again again when a weight settled tentatively on his chest and woke him. He knew without opening his eyes that it was Fluffy’s head, but instead of speaking he just lifted his hand and began scritching from between the dog’s eyes, behind his ears and down to the thick of his ruff. They lay like that until Stiles fell back asleep, and the next time he woke up he was alone.

  
  


Derek showing up at Stiles’ house with an envelope with five hundred dollars in it was a surprise. Even more of a surprise was the four hours that followed that mostly involved the two of them sitting on the back lawn and playing with the little grey kitten and talking about not a lot of anything.

“Do you want her?” Stiles asked as Derek was leaving.

Derek turned back with a questioning look on his face.

“Well, you kind of paid for her,” Stiles shrugged, awkwardly waving the envelope which Derek had refused to take back. “And she really likes you, so.” He shrugged again.

“What are you going to do with her when you go back to college?” Derek asked.

“I had planned on taking her with me, smuggling her into the dorms and making everyone fall in love with her so she becomes the official secret mascot and by the time anyone discovers it we’re all complicit and/or graduating, and then it won’t be a problem anymore.”

Derek grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his teeth showing in way that made Stiles’ lifelong-crush on Laura fade to insignificance. “You’re given the plan some thought, I see.”

“Failing that, Dad’s already a pushover for her, so she’s allowed to stay here. Whichever.”

“Well,” Derek said eventually, the evening breeze ruffling his hair as he stood at the front door and watched Stiles closely, “if she stays here, you’ll have to come back soon, right? Given your strong opinions on responsible pet ownership and abandonment.”

Stiles’ heart began to beat a little faster, but he nodded slowly. “I guess so.”

“And if you take her with you given that yes, I have technically paid for her, it only makes sense that I check in with her from time to time, ensure that she’s being well cared for.”

“Absolutely,” Stiles agreed firmly, not at all missing the Derek’s eyes flicked down to his mouth and then back up again, lightning quick.

“I suppose she can stay with you, then,” Derek said eventually, then he smiled again, blindingly happy, and left.

“Jesus christ,” Stiles muttered to himself as Derek drove away, and then almost leaped out of his skin when the kitten jumped on top of his bare foot and tried to make a break for it.

  
  


When Stiles returned to college, it was with Pawdrey Hepburn asleep on the passenger seat beside him. The first time Derek showed up, ostensibly to visit Pawdrey, Stiles had actually been speechless. In the months that followed the visits became predictable and welcome, and Stiles knew he was falling for Derek. This was a problem.

“I think Fluffy has become attached to someone,” Derek confided one visit. “She leaves bones out for him.”

“Floozy,” Stiles muttered, pretending to be more focussed on his Intro to Computational Biology and Bioinformatics notes than what Derek was saying.

“Stiles,” Derek said censoriously, though Stiles could hear the smile he was trying to hide behind his takeaway mug of coffee.

“I meant Fluffy,” Stiles said, cocking an eyebrow and enjoying the swoop his stomach made when Derek lowered his cup and smiled at him outright. “What about you? Do you like her?”

Derek shrugged. “She’s nice, I guess. A teacher at the high school. I’ve only spoken to her once or twice, but she seems…”

“Nice?”

Rolling his eyes in exaggerated mimicry of Stiles himself, Derek just kicked him under the table and went back to filling out his own paperwork.

So, somewhere along the way they had become friends. The kind of friends where Derek would blow into town for a day or two, spending the days with Stiles doing whatever he was doing- sometimes lectures, sometimes study, sometimes wandering through the Jet Propulsion Laboratory for the hell of it. In the evenings Stiles would study and Derek would do whatever paperwork or important business-type stuff he needed to do to keep his art dealership running in his absence. It was wonderful. Stiles hated it. Because hanging over every interaction was the certainty that one day, maybe one day soon, someone would get the key from around Fluffy’s neck and the visits would stop.

Watching him for a moment, drinking in the softness of Derek’s eyelashes as he worked, Stiles bit his lip for a moment and forced himself to get back to studying.

  
  


Derek flew in to Pasadena from Boston on his way home from securing some art he was particularly pleased with, just so he and Stiles could Drive back to Beacon Hills together for the Christmas break. Pawdrey was thrilled to see Derek, and spent the entire drive in his lap purring loudly, which Stiles may have taken several photos of when he pulled over for fuel.

Stiles dropped Derek off at home, foregoing coming in in favour of going straight over to see his dad, but separating only after a tight hug. Pawdrey meowed forlornly when they got back into the car and drove away without Derek, but she soon cheered up when John got a hold of her and began to spoil her with pats and cuddles. Stiles just laughed and told his dad he was going soft as he lugged his bag upstairs and took a moment to sit on the end of the bed and relive Derek’s arms around him, the way he’d pressed his face briefly into the side of Stiles’ throat as though trying to make a home for himself there.

Once he had collected himself, Stiles went and showered. It was Carols in the Square tonight, and he’d promised his dad he’d go with him and Mrs McCall, just like when he and Scott had been kids. He wasn’t sure if Scott was going to be back in Beacon Hills for the event, or if he was still in Japan with Kira for the holidays. He wondered if they’d told her family that they were pregnant, yet.

When he was done drying off his stomach rumbled, so he headed downstairs in search of something to eat right now. There would be food at the Square, but he didn’t know if he could last that long without getting seriously hangry, so he raided the fridge in search of something light to snack on.

“What do you call this?” he asked accusatorily when he heard his father enter the kitchen, spinning around with a container of store-bought and calorie-laden potato salad, only to startle and slam his elbow back into the door of the refrigerator when he found Derek standing beside the island counter, very much not his father. “Dude, lurk much?” he demanded, acutely aware of his hair dripping water onto his shoulders and the fact that he was wearing nothing but a towel.

“Pretty sure that’s called potato salad, Stiles,” Derek said, grinning slyly. “What are they teaching you at college?”

“Hilarious,” Stiles drawled as he put the container back and closed the fridge. “What are you doing here, apart from scaring me half to death?”

Derek leaned against the counter with studied casualness. “Wanted to see if you were up for going and getting dinner before Carols. Pete’s is doing all you can eat chilli with that jalapeño cornbread you like.”

“Yes,” Stiles exclaimed, knocking Derek’s arm companionably with his elbow as he passed. “I’ll get dressed and be down in a second.”

“Don’t rush,” Derek called back, but he sounded weird and Stiles was halfway up the stairs, so he ignored in favour of getting dressed. He pulled on a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt before finishing the outfit with an ugly green Christmas sweater that had ‘Deck Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself’ embroidered on the front of it in shiny silver thread. He shoved his hands through his hair a couple of times to make it submit and bounded back down the stairs to where Derek was talking with the sheriff, Pawdrey held happily against his chest as she butted her head affectionately beneath his chin.

And… he looked  _ nice, _ Stiles realised, not having noticed before. Pressed navy slacks, a white button down shirt left open at the throat and a red sweater vest over it with a soft-looking grey blazer on top. “Uh, you said Pete’s, right?” he asked uncertainly. “Why so fancy? Ow, shit,  _ what?” _ he exclaimed indignantly when his dad cuffed him over the back of his head. “I didn’t say he looked bad, geez; Derek always looks good.”

“You look good too,” Derek smiled, handing a sleepy Pawdrey back to the sheriff. “Are you gonna be warm enough? It’s breezy out, might want to get a scarf.”

“Yeah, there’s one in the car,” Stiles said absently, patting down his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed. “Ready to go?”

“Sure,” Derek nodded, opening the door for Stiles.

“Righto Pops, meet you at the carols?”

“Be good,” John said reflexively, exchanging a brief hug with Stiles.

“I’m always good,” Stiles shot back, laughing as he left at the look on his dad’s face.

Ever the gentleman, Derek opened the car door for him and even let him choose the music, a privilege rarely afforded. Out of respect, Stiles found a channel  _ not _ playing Christmas music and kept it turned low. They talked quietly together on the drive, not about anything of consequence, but as they pulled up outside of Pete’s, Stiles paused with his hand on the door handle.

“Hey,” he asked, unable to help himself. “What happened with that teacher? Jennifer, right?”

Derek’s face looked for a moment like it was about to crumble, before his lips thinned and he opened his own door. “She wasn’t who I thought she was.”

And even Stiles knew well enough to leave that alone, so he got out of the car and joined Derek on the sidewalk, the two of them walking into the restaurant together and leaving all traces of awkwardness behind.

  
  


Dinner was good… too good, Stiles bemoaned as they walked up the street from Pete’s to the town square.

“All I want to do is curl up in front of a fireplace somewhere and sleep off my food coma. For a week.”

“That sounds pretty great,” Derek agreed, ruefully patting his own entirely-flat belly.

“The fireplace at your house is perfect,” Stiles said dreamily as they walked along. “So wide, so warm, and with that soft rug in front of the couch? Ugh, let’s skip carols and go there, Derek. Much better than this stupid, cold, desolate, windswept-”

“It’s sixty-five right now and there’s barely a breeze, melodramatic much?” Derek laughed, but still untied the scarf from around his own throat and settled it around Stiles’ neck before pulling him in and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Better?”

“Much,” Stiles managed to get out, suddenly struck with how much that evening was feeling like a date. His mind began ticking over as they walked with the gathering crowd, until they were entering the square itself and he just had to ask-

“Stilinski!” came a familiar voice, “You’ve grown up nice, who saw that coming?”

“Ah, my least-favourite Hale,” he grinned, trying to ignore the way Derek’s body had tensed beside him as his youngest sister approached.

“Pfft,” Cora said rudely, we all know you love us the best of everyone in town, so least favourite is still more than most people get, so thanks for the compliment, I guess.”

“That’s some spin you got going there, Cora,” Stiles said faux-contemplatively. “It’s like you’re a politician or something… oh, wait.”

“Hardy har,” Cora snorted. “Political science does not a politician make. Necessarily,” she corrected.

“Wow, terrifying,” Stiles said pleasantly. “Remember us little people when you take over the world.”

“Will do,” she confirmed breezily.

“Hey D-Bag,” she greeted her brother eventually, patting the side of his face in a way that sounded less-than-gentle. “Nice to see you finally sacked up and-”

“Remember the time we were at Sentiment Lake?” Derek asked innocently.

“Bye guys,” Cora shot back, and then disappeared as suddenly as she’d arrived.

Stiles watched her go. “Damn, that’s some powerful blackmail material. Good to know that if she does try and aim for world domination there’s something that can rein her in a little.”

“You have no idea,” Derek smirked, then dropped his arm from where it was still slung over Stiles’ shoulders. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he began with unusual solemnity, but broke off with an almost inaudible growl of frustration when they were hailed again, this time by Stiles’ dad, Mrs McCall and Derek’s parents, all of whom were setting up a huge blanket for the kids to settle in on, once the carols began.

Stiles lifted a hand in acknowledgement and turned back to Derek. “What’s up? You okay?” But Derek was gone, disappeared into the crowd like he’d never been there at all. Surprised and a little frustrated, Stiles clenched his teeth and headed over to where their families were waiting. He chatted with Mrs McCall and the Hales, allowed himself to be climbed by the littlest Hale kids, and waited with decreasing patience for Derek to come back, but when there was only ten minutes left for the carols to start, he still hadn’t returned.

Then, as the band on stage was finishing their tuning up, the assembled townspeople began to fall quiet, followed by a furious hush of whispers as Fluffy trotted through the crowd, avoiding the hands of all but the children as they dared to reach out and touch him as he moved with single-minded intent to where Stiles was sitting.

The enormous dog reached the edge of the blanket and paused for a moment, his big, intelligent eyes watching Stiles for a long moment before he took two steps closer, lowered his head and dropped the key which always hung from his collar onto the blanket at Stiles’ feet. There was a collective indrawn breath from what seemed like the entire town as Stiles froze, before reaching out to pick up the key.

“I’m not sure this is how it works,” Stiles said softly, meeting the dog’s gaze.

Fluffy just took a step closer and nudged the hand holding the key with his nose.

“Does that mean Uncle Derek and Uncle Stiles are gonna get married now?” Jesse Hale asked, his sweet voice carrying to begin another flurry of whispered speculation from the rapt audience.

“Uncle Stiles decides that now, darling,” Laura said softly, her eyes kind as she watched the scene unfolding before her.

  
  


Stiles was furious. After Fluffy had turned tail and darted back through the crowd to disappear through the crowd and off into the night Stiles had shot to his feet to follow, key clenched tightly in his fist as he forwent trying to follow the dog in favour of running back down the street the way he’d come, utterly unsurprised to see Derek at the Camaro as he shrugged back into his blazer.

“How dumb do you think I am, Derek?” he shouted, momentarily pleased with the shock on Derek’s face as his head shot up and he stared in bewilderment as Stiles bore down on him, shoving his shoulders until he was backed up against the side of the car.

“What-?”

“Oh knock it off, I knew it was you since the first day you found me at the creek. What is it? A geas? A binding? Compulsion? Ensorcellment? Are the Fae involved? Because I’m pretty sure this kind of thing stipulates that someone has to  _ take _ the key, you can’t just  _ give  _ it away or else they-”

“You- what?” Derek asked, sounding breathless and very confused.

“Who is making you do this?” Stiles demanded, lifting the hand holding the key and waving it in Derek’s face. “If you’d just trusted me, I could have helped you figure out how to break it, not how to suss out who might be the least-objectionable person to have to marry-”

“Stiles, no,” Derek burst out, wrapping his hand around Stiles’ and the key in it. “It’s not- a geas? Really? It’s a tradition, a Hale tradition. It’s how my parents got married.”

That stopped Stiles in his tracks, actually taking a step back and staring at Derek as though he’d never seen him before. “What?”

Rubbing his free hand over his face in apparent frustration, Derek sighed. “The alphas in the Hale family- and we’ll get to the part about how you even knew I was a werewolf in a minute- have this tradition for choosing a partner. It’s an old tradition, obviously, and one designed to allow suitors to prove their worth as a mate by being the smartest, fastest, strongest or  _ whatever _ person to be chosen. And I knew you a little when we were younger, and I… I always thought of finding someone like you when it was my turn. Someone clever, kind, funny and smart, someone I could trust, someone I enjoyed spending time with. Someone who didn’t actually want anything from me except for what I was willing to give. And then you came home and I found you and you didn’t even  _ want _ the stupid key. You didn’t want anything except someone to talk to, to share space with. You were everything I ever wanted, but no matter how close I got to you you would never take the damn key. And I thought maybe you didn’t, you know, want me like that. So I came to visit and I stayed with you and I took you out on a date tonight and I was going to ask if maybe you wanted-”

“A date?”

“-to date me and when you started to know me better I could ask you to marry me properly-”

“Wait,  _ what?” _

“-but I’m tired of waiting and I needed you to know that I want you, pretty much all the time, but it’s hard to just  _ say _ that to someone-”

Stiles stuck his fingers into his mouth and whistled, loud and shrill, making Derek’s hands fly up to clap over his ears as he glared at Stiles.

“Did you- are you  _ proposing?” _ Stiles asked after a beat of complete silence.

Derek froze, looking caged for a moment before his shoulders dropped and he turned his face away. “Yes,” he admitted brokenly. “Not that I want to get married tomorrow, obviously, but… to you? Eventually. Yes.”

Stiles was so silent and still that Derek began to fidget, but when he risked a glance at Stiles, his cheeks were flushed and a smile was starting to creep over his face as he watched Derek. “Okay, sure,” he said eventually, breathlessly. _ “Yes,  _ Derek, you furry idiot, I’ll marry you.”

“You will?” Cora shrieked from the front of the car, startling them both as they turned to find half the town had followed to see what was happening, the sheriff and the Hales at the front of the crowd. 

“Pay up, loser,” Laura crowed, a beaming grin on her face as she restrained her kids from running forward. “Better kiss him before he changes his mind,” she prompted Derek who, for the first time in living memory, took his older sister’s advice and did just that.

  
  


“How did you even know I was a werewolf?” Derek asked much, much later that night, running his fingertips up and down the bare skin of Stiles’ back, just because he could and because he loved the way it made Stiles wriggle closer.

Stiles just laughed, pressing his still-flushed and sweaty face into Derek’s chest. “You’re not subtle,” he said bluntly. “Besides, Cora told me when we were in high school.”

Outraged, Derek made as though he was about to climb out of bed and go find his sister, but changed his mind when Stiles just laughed again and pulled him back down, the key glinting against his throat where it hung from a plain black ribbon.

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspired by this Tumblr post:](https://aviss.tumblr.com/post/184649802079/browntiger15-siniristiriita-story-idea-the)
> 
> The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail, the cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them.
> 
> You are the first one to figure out the obvious: Do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key.
> 
> Secondary plot twist: The woman is a shapeshifter. She is the cat.


End file.
